


Never Trust a Beautiful Woman

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:07:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6462463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: I am a HUGE fan. Thanks for all you do, for me and the fandom! Here's the prompt: Root and Shaw have cover identities where they work together in an office. Coworkers or boss/employee. In their off time Shaw is on Team Machine, while Root is the usual evil hacker. There's flirtation/attraction at the office (maybe it's consummated who knows) by day, but they are also battling it out as criminal and vigilante by night. What happens?!?! -TS</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Trust a Beautiful Woman

"How you holding up, Shaw?" John Reese's deep voice rumbles through the phone's receiver. Sameen Shaw toys with the black, coiled wire of the work issued phone, teeth grinding as she counts to ten- forcing the bite from her response.

"I'm like a beggar with the bubonic plague," she returns harshly, fingernails scratching against the Ikea desk. From the other end of the line, she can hear Reese's muffled laugh.

"How bad can it be?" He questions humorously.

"I'm stuck in a cubicle all day with people calling me to complain about their problems," Shaw fumes, working up her long boiling anger. "And..." She trails off, peeking her gaze into the small aisle-way and back. "It smells like locker room of the nerds in here." An email dings on her computer, and she groans. Clicking on it with an angered flourish, she scans the message quickly.

_'I bought the Swift Sweeper two days ago, and the handle broke. Your product description guaranteed the highest quality product, and this is an embarrassment to your company. Do you think it's right to lie to your customers? This is just another-'_

She stops, clicking on the reply box before typing in a hunt-and-peck method. "We are sorry for the inconvenience," she mutters under her breath in choppy fragments, searching for every letter of the automated message. "Send a picture of the product and your receipt, and we will mail you a new one free of charge." Smacking the enter button, it darts off, and she sulks back into her nearly broken chair with a sigh.

"Is someone complaining?" Reese asks her playfully. "Because Finch is having issues with that new broom, says the handle keeps falling off-"

"Oh, go to _Hell_ ," Shaw spits, matched with Reese's hearty grumble.

"I'm not sure if I want that to be a _customer_ or a _personal_ call."

Shaw stops, fingers freezing around the telephone wire as she slowly turns to face that oh too familiar voice. High heels, black pantsuit to match her black manicure, and wavy brown hair that rolls like water over her shoulders. Her vibrant brown eyes shimmer with humor behind dark glasses as she leans her slender arms on the closest cubicle panel, smirk tugging at her lips. _Ms. May, a.k.a. the Boss._

* * *

 

Shaw stares at her, eyes mirroring her blank mind behind her own pair of glasses as she slowly drops the phone from her ear.

"Brother," Shaw blurts at last. "Keeps trying to get me to quit." Ms. May smiles, amusement twinkling in her gaze as she raises a skeptical brow.

"I don't recall any siblings in your information, Sam," Ms. May purrs, and Shaw narrows her eyes, straining to keep back a biting remark.

"Can I _do_ something for you, _Ms. May?_ " Shaw asks, insincerity oozing out from behind her award winning smile.

"Just your job," Ms. May replies with a wink before walking off. Shaw's smile drops into an agitated sneer as she grabs the phone back from her desk.

" _She_ sounds nice," Reese quips, and Shaw all but loses her cool.

"Is Finch sure this- this _hacker_ is working out of this _specific_ building?" Even before Reese responds, she knows the answer. _Of course he's sure. And why is he sure? Because the Machine is sure._ "Never mind," she mutters, then hangs up. She counts to five before pushing up from her desk, eyes scanning for her- all be it temporary- boss. Just the thought of her brings a roll to Shaw's eyes and a chill to her spine. Why? She's unsure, and she doesn't care to find out. _We just need to be done with this mission._

Taking a brisk walk into the floor's kitchen, Shaw yanks open the fridge, the potent smell of spoiled milk and forgotten mystery meat smacking her in the face. Scrunching up her nose, Shaw quickly swipes out a pudding cup and cracks it open.

"Psst. Psst, _hey_. Hey, you're Sameen Grey, right?" A voice whispers, and Shaw turns her head towards the small table tucked in the back corner of the room to find a short figure hunched over a laptop. Shaw, taking a look around for anyone else in the kitchen, approaches him.

"Yeah?" She replies, sliding into the chair next to him and scooping some pudding into her mouth. The man's beady eyes scour her face, lips twitching nervously. "Daizo, right?" She asks, and he nods vigorously, black hair flying about with the motion.

"I got an email for you," he says quickly. "I don't know who it's from, but it's for you." Shaw, interest piqued, leans in.

"Then why wasn't it emailed to me?" Shaw asks, and he gives a jumpy shrug.

"Dunno," he replies, and- as she leans over to take a look- he swipes the laptop back. "Wait," he says, a hint of defiance creeping into his small voice. Shaw's lip curls with a snarl.

" _What_ ," she growls, causing the man to fall back. Still, he raises his chin with a superior air.

"I'll let you look at it," he tells her. "But _you_ have to answer a _question_ first." Shaw's hands curl into tight fists, pudding dripping onto her fingers as she crushes the cup in her grip. She thinks of how easy it would be to rip the computer from his frail hands; one swift punch to the bridge of his nose to subdue him completely. Instead, she swallows her anger.

"What is it," she demands, and a large smile lights his mischievous face.

"The boss- what do you think of her?" Shaw'd seen Daizo before, following Ms. May about the office whenever she asked, completing any task she sent him off to do with a smile on his face. Shaw lets the question grow in her mind, trying to choose her words wisely.

"She dresses nice," Shaw answers at last, reaching for the laptop. Again, Daizo snaps it back, and Shaw can't help but to think about snapping his neck.

"That's _not_ what I meant," he hisses, nerves calming as cocky humor leaks into his veins. Seeing that she isn't violent, he seems much more at ease around her. "Think she's hot? _Smart?_ " Red creeps into the corners of Shaw's vision, and the taste of blood pools in her mouth from how hard she bites her tongue. "I'll know if you're lying," he warns her, and the red continues to close in.

"Yeah, sure," she answers gruffly, becoming defensive. His smile grows gleefully.

"You'd bang 'er?" He continues, although it feels more like a statement than a question, and Shaw's ears grow hot. " _Don't_ lie," he adds again seriously, and Shaw's teeth grind down painfully.

Swallowing hard and not meeting his eye, Shaw gives a curt nod.

"Knew it," Daizo cheers, sitting back in his seat with satisfaction. Shaw's eyes singe his skin, and he quickly turns the laptop on her. Nearly certain the heat from her furious touch will melt the computer, Shaw pulls it nearer.

 _'Good morning, Tatsuro Daizo. I know you will want to find who has sent you this email, but I assure you it will be for the best if you do not know. There are three things I need you to do for me. Understand, if you do not follow through, consequences will follow._  
1) Find out who is the newest employee  
2) In private, convey the following message to them: Your Floor  
3) Delete this email. Completely erase it, Daizo. The person sitting across from you is much more dangerous than she appears- take my word on that- and if any trace of this leaks, I will know, and she will know.'

"What does it mean?" Daizo asks eagerly, and Shaw shrugs her shoulders.

"No idea," she lies, standing. Then, a thought coming to her head, she casts a cruel eye his way. "Did you make this whole thing up just to ask me a few questions?" Shaw growls, and Daizo's eyes grow wide.

"No, I swear," he assures her, and she rolls her eyes, walking away. Washing her hands off in the sink, Shaw skirts her way to the bathroom, locking herself in a stall before making a call on her cell.

"Miss Shaw, is everything alright?" Harold Finch greets in a worried tone.

"I didn't take you for the type that makes threats to fellow computer geeks," Shaw counters, and his tension breaks.

"It was a necessary evil, I'm afraid," he tells her, the sound of typing welling up from the background. "I couldn't risk whoever this threat is uncovering your true identity."

"And telling him to look for the newest employee is a safe bet?" Shaw shoots back cleverly.

"Since my investment into the building a week ago, ten new employees have been added to the roster. Their names will be updated in the system... Now." Shaw, in spite of herself, chuckles; yet, with the creak of an opening door, she cuts the laugh short. Without another word, Shaw hangs up, flushes for effect, then steps from the stall.

And right into Ms. May.

Shaw stops abruptly, all but knocking into Ms. May, whose eyes cloud with confusion before slowly beginning to ooze with doting amusement.

"Sam," she greets warmly, folding her arms over her chest. Shaw, leaning back against the stalls, keeps a mild expression plastered to her face. At seeing the brunette, Shaw's mind instantly flashes back to Daizo's questions, and her ears grow red.

"I was just going," Shaw tells her, pointing towards the door as she begins to slide past.

"Can't a couple of girls take a break from work to chat?" Ms. May asks, and Shaw stops. Weighing her options- and deciding not to mention that she hadn't done much working anyway- Shaw shrugs her shoulders, waiting for Ms. May to continue. "You've been here a week now; how do you like working here?"

Shaw, placing her hands on her hips, runs her tongue along her teeth. "Pretty good," Shaw responds, which brings a smile to Ms. May's face.

"You _know_ ," she says, scrunching her nose and taking a step towards Shaw, "even on day one, you never struck me as the computer type." Shaw's eyes dig into Ms. May's, searching them for a reason behind the question. The boss smiles. "I guess looks can be... deceiving." Another tingle runs down Shaw's spine and spreads out to even the tips of her fingers.

"I could say the same thing about you," Shaw replies, small smirk tugging up the corner of her mouth for half a second- just long enough for Ms. May to catch.

"And all this time, I thought I was being an open book," Ms. May shoots back. " _That_ will have to change." Something in her gaze tells Shaw she knows something Shaw doesn't. That she's looking past Shaw and into the inner workings of her mind. _Or maybe she's just undressing me with her eyes._ Shaw's unsure which she'd prefer, although her own eyes are beginning to follow through with the latter.

Blinking a few times, Shaw clears her throat. "Maybe it's just me, but this doesn't seem like a work conversation," Shaw tells her, holding back a humorous smile. Ms. May makes no such attempt.

"I agree," she responds with a large grin. "But I wouldn't mind picking it up later."

"I've actually got a prior engagement tonight," Shaw says, thinking of Reese and Finch. _You know, my actual job._ Ms. May's eyes flicker mischievously.

"I didn't say _anything_ about _tonight_." Shaw, rolling her eyes, begins to walk off once more. "Also," Ms. May adds, causing Shaw to stop. "Whether it matters to you or not, I just had the most _interesting_ conversation with Daizo. I think he likes you." With that, the tall brunette escapes into the bathroom stall, leaving Shaw- stunned- to wander back to her cubicle.

______\ If Your Number's Up /______

Sameen Shaw, dressed in all black with her hair in a tight ponytail, dashes alongside John Reese as they head towards a nearby building. Both sporting ski masks and semi-automatics, they work with stealth, stealing into the ancient building without problem. _Now comes the hard part._

"Can you hear me, Finch?" Reese asks into his earwig. For a moment, only static silence greets him.

"Loud and clear, Mr. Reese," he responds.

"You sure this is the place?" Shaw asks. "It looks kinda empty."

"I've done all I could," Harold tells her, somewhat irritated, "and all of it has lead back to your location. Root is there."

"So, _magically_ , you're able to hack back against this mystery figure and get _this_ abandoned building, and there's _no_ question behind it?" Silence follows.

"There's nothing more we have to go on, Miss Shaw," Finch replies tersely.

"We'll get him, Harry," John assures him, casting a disapproving glance Shaw's way.

"Please," Harold replies, " _don't_ call me that."

"I think I see our guy," Shaw says, voice hushed as she crouches down. Reese mimics her, scanning the holes in the ceiling and each shattered window.

"Where?" Reese breathes.

"Building across from us, scope glinted off the moonlight. Amateur."

"That's not right," Harold insists over the line. "I have a signal at your address. Why would he be in another building?"

"I have an idea," Reese responds, before grabbing Shaw's wrist. His demand to "Get down!" is nearly lost in the sound of three ringing shots, all whipping past Shaw's head with millimeters to spare. She can smell the singed edges of her hair, and her heart begins to drum, adrenaline pouring into her veins. _So it's that kind of party, huh?_

Shaw, shaking off Reese's hold, scurries to the broken window, firing off two quick rounds. Someone shrieks, and the sniper falls from sight. With the nod of her head, Reese comes forward, and together they scour the room.

"I've got a computer cord," Reese tells her, holding up a black coated charger. "He was definitely here."

"I don't think it's a _he_ at all," Shaw comments slowly, grabbing Reese's attention. She picks up a small, glass bottle and holds it into the light, revealing the curling letters of a nail polish brand.

" _Root's_ a _she_?" Reese asks, although his question is pushed to the back burner by Harold's frantic words.

"Miss Shaw, Mr. Reese, you need to get out of the building, now."

"What's wrong, Harold?" Reese asks, locking eyes on Shaw before leading the way back down the rotting stairs.

"It appears I've fallen for a honeypot," Harold informs them, deprecating scorn in his voice. "There's no telling what Root knows, but you both need to get as far away from that building as possible." White noise crackles in their earwigs, before a new voice enters their conversation.

"I see the sniper didn't do too good of a job," a woman's voice says rather cheerfully. It's as if she's almost glad the sniper missed; pleased the game of cat and mouse can go on. "If you want a job done right, I guess you really do have to do it yourself."

"Who are you," Harold demands, met only by a mellifluous laugh.

"You know who I am, Harold," she replies, a smile in her words. "Just like I know who _you_ are. _And_ Sameen. _And_ your guard dog in the suit." Reese's jaw tightens, all the while Shaw's mind wanders. _I know that voice; where do I know that voice?_ "You also have something I want."

"And what's _that_?" Harold huffs indignantly.

"You have a god on your hands," Root replies, tone growing serious. "A god _I_ want to set free."

"I have no idea what you're referring to," he responds stiffly, and again, Root chuckles.

"Don't play _coy_ , Harold," Root sighs. "I've ran through all the possibilities. The only way you could have possibly stopped me before anything happened? Knowing the where, why, and who when nothing was left to be found? It was an artificial intelligence. It's the only thing good enough for that."

" _Someone's_ a little narcissistic," Shaw cracks as she and Reese reach the front exit to the building.

"It would only be narcissistic if I were _wrong_ , Sweetie," Root coos amiably, and Shaw is pounded with the mind-splitting knowledge that she knows this voice- their name on the tip of her tongue. "I _am_ impressed," Root continues, focus back on Harold. "Your Machine found me much quicker than I'd anticipated. I had to leave the building earlier than I'd wanted to. You know, unfinished business and all."

"You left some things behind," Reese snarls.

"Nothing that can't be replaced," Root replies simply. " _Or_ returned. Anyway, I gotta go; it was fun chatting though."

"Leaving so soon?" Shaw asks, hoping to bait her. Hoping that if she keeps the notorious hacker on the line long enough, Harold will have a trace. "Things were just starting to get good."

"Don't worry, Sam," Root tells her reassuringly. "We'll talk again soon." With that, the line cracks, and silence follows. As quickly as she came, Root is gone.

"Did you get a trace on her?" Reese demands as the two burst out the front door.

"The only location I have is still in your area," Harold answers. "But she could have bounced the signal from any number of places." Shaw peers around them, to the right and to the left. There, under a streetlamp on the corner of the road, a woman stands, cellphone in hand. Shaw takes a step closer, trying to catch a good look, yet the woman is no more than a silhouette. The phone clatters to the pavement, where the woman crushes it under her heel. Shaw takes another step closer, gun at the ready as the woman turns. With the light spilling over her now, Shaw makes out dark brown hair and eyes that catch the yellow light like amber. The woman winks, then is gone.

At once, Shaw dashes after her, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, set on the kill.

"Shaw? _Shaw!_ " Reese calls, chasing after her. Shaw, skidding around the corner, raises her firearm. Only, the street is without a soul. No echoing footsteps, no eyes watching from the shadows- only emptiness. "What's wrong," Reese demands. "What did you see."

Shaw, dropping her gun to her side, replies, "I know who she is."

______\ We'll Find You /______

Shaw sits at her desk, typing random letters into the notepad on screen, eyes on the prowl. They scan over every average worker, over Daizo, and land on the glass walls of Ms. May's office. Only, the plaque on the wall is a lie. _Or maybe it's not._ Shaw's unsure, unsure which is her real name: the one on the door or the one on the computer screen.

Root. She'd finally found Root.

Shaw watches Root's black nails glide over they keys of her computer, typing without any other care. Shaw snaps her gaze down to the clock on her computer. _11:38 a.m._ She'd been sitting here since seven, waiting for Root to leave her office- to go somewhere private, unaware of Shaw following until it's too late. Shaw's hand slides into her jacket pocket, fingers dancing along the small bottle of nail polish that rests there. It all makes so much sense, she can't realize she hadn't put the pieces of the puzzle together already. And then, how long had Root known her cover was a sham? She was confident- cocky even- on the phone. Calling her Sam and Sweetie, knowing that they would be seeing each other soon. Having the audacity to stick around and make sure Shaw saw her before escaping the premises.

The door to Root's office swings open, and Shaw's face instantly turns up. Root's gaze flickers over to her, scans her, then a small smirk tugs onto her lips. Shaw watches her go, anger boiling as she waits, forcing patience over herself. She watches Root step into the bathroom. Ninety painstaking seconds pass before Shaw stands, fists curled into balls as she makes a direct line for the ladies' room. Her footsteps echo in her ears, every sense heightened as she sets her focus on one thing- one person.

Stepping soundlessly into the bathroom, Shaw finds Root washing her hands. Creeping up from the side, Shaw comes to the edge of the sinks, Root still unaware.

"You left this," Shaw says in a low voice, placing the black nail polish on the counter. Root, surprised, turns her gaze onto it before looking up to Shaw. However, by the time Root's able to focus on Shaw's face, Shaw is slamming her against the bathroom stalls, forearm pressed to Root's neck and eyes set to kill. Root brings her hands to Shaw's forearm, nails digging into her skin as Root tries to breathe, but Shaw holds firm.

"Hey, Sweetie," Root purrs, voice breathy as she struggles to pull in a full gulp of air.

" _Root_ ," Shaw snarls, pressing into her esophagus farther; Root's nails push harder.

"Glad we can finally be on a first name basis," Root responds with a smile, and Shaw shakes her head. Shaw lessens her hold, Root begins to move, and Shaw’s hand is instantly on Root's throat, pinning her to the spot as she steps closer into Root, forcing Root to press her hands to the wall; Shaw'd never seen her eyes so alive. Under her fingertips, Shaw can feel Root's pulse jumping, and is sure it mimics her own. Nonetheless, Shaw refuses to let it show.

"I will _end_ you," Shaw growls, pushing her thumb into the soft skin of Root's throat. Yet, instead of fear, affection begins to pool in Root's coffee eyes.

"You can end me _all you want,_ " Root responds, the suggestiveness in her voice enough to make Shaw's ears burn. "Right after you take a minute to think how this will look."

"How _what_ will look," Shaw demands, eyes on fire.

"You have no proof that I'm ' _Root_ '," Root starts easily. "At least, none that anyone in this building will _believe_. Speaking of which, you might want to move your hand."

"Not a _chance_." Root raises a brow.

"And how would you feel if someone walked in here and saw you one step away from choking me?" Root questions with a sly smile.

"How would I _feel_?" Shaw echoes incredulously. "I _wouldn't_ feel. I'm a sociopath; I don't _have_ feelings."

"And _I'm_ a killer for hire," Root responds, leaning towards Shaw with devious eyes. Shaw's surprised at how easily she allows Root to move, hand falling away entirely. "Aren't we perfect for each other?"

Shaw would have given a cruel laugh if Root wasn't so close, snatching the air from her lungs and the words from her mouth.

"As perfect as a four alarm fire in an oil refinery," Shaw cracks harshly.

"Sounds cozy," Root replies with a grin, and Shaw instantly wishes she'd just choked Root while she had the chance. Now? Now her heart is spasmodic at best, eyes locked on Root's without the ability to tear them away. She's barely breathing, struggling to keep anger in her eyes as she watches Root- Root less than an inch from her face. Root, with her smug eyes and dark hair and deep smile that Shaw would like nothing more than to ruin. An alien feeling, one of a million butterflies, starts up in her stomach and travels into her throat and lungs, leaving her to wonder how she wants to wipe the smile away. Shaw could kill her. Shaw could kiss her. She just isn't sure which to choose.

"So, Sam, what are you going to do?" For a moment, Shaw stands, stunned, wondering if Root is able to read her mind. "Are you going to cart me off to your friend in the suit?" Slowly, Shaw shakes her head.

"No," she responds, voice low. "Not when _I_ can just kick your ass _myself_."

"You know, if I'd known you were this prone to violence, I _never_ would have hired you," Root jokes. Her voice is a whisper, but that's all it needs to be for Shaw to hear it like a shout with their proximity. Shaw gives a sinister grin, tilting her chin up to get a better look at Root- lips nearly brushing in the process.

"Must've left that out of my file," Shaw responds, mind trying to remember her initial intentions but drawing an absolute blank. Past Root's eyes and mouth, and her breath on Shaw's face, Shaw can think of nothing.

From somewhere behind them, a door opens.

"Uhm," a woman's voice starts uneasily. "Is this a, uh, a bad time?"

_____\ Never Trust /_____

"Where is she?" Reese asks Shaw after she walks out of the building.

"I don't know," she responds carelessly, heading down the sidewalk. "Like I said, she left early."

"You could have followed her, or called _me_ to follow her."

"We'll find her," Shaw assures him, becoming irritated with his insistent manner. "And if not; she'll be back at work at some point." Seeing that he's getting no where, Reese grudgingly drops the subject, and they walk the rest of the way to the subway station in silence. Shaw's mind swims with thoughts, with scenarios that could have ended with Shaw taking Root down. _Just another perpetrator to take out before they strike._ But Root wasn't another number. There's something different, something Shaw can't quite place, that makes her stick out from the rest. And so, entering the station, Shaw's set on one thing, and one thing only:

"Harold, when we find her, we can't kill her." Harold stops typing upon hearing Shaw's determined tone and stands.

"Of course not," he responds, eyes drawn up in question. "We are not _killers_ Miss Shaw. We are going to hand her over to the authorities in one way or anoth-"

"No, we're not doing that either," Shaw interrupts flatly.

"Then what do you _suppose_ we do?" He asks coolly, leaving Shaw to force out the words she'd never envisioned herself speaking.

"We'll find a place for her- here, even- where she can't get out and wreak havoc. Until we can find a way to incorporate her into the team."

"No," Harold says, mouth twisted in distaste. "No, there is _no_ place for someone like her here."

"Like _who_ , Harold?" Shaw spits back harshly. "Like a _hacker_? Someone who's _killed_ people before?" Harold's eyes harden, but it doesn't stop her. "You've said it yourself, she's the best hacker you've seen- probably the only one equal to you. What good is it doing _anyone_ if she's in a jail cell somewhere? She could _help_ us."

"She's got a point, Finch," Reese says, earning himself a glowering glare from Harold. After a moment of sweltering silence, Finch returns his dissatisfied gaze on Shaw.

"Where would she stay?" Harold asks, exasperated, and a surge of victory floods Shaw's system.

"Somewhere here," Shaw responds, walking backwards with arms wide open. "You just have to make a space she can't escape."

"Easier said than done, Miss Shaw." Shaw stops, dropping her hands and giving Harold a cruel stare. After a few minutes under its devastating weight, Finch recedes. "I'm sure I can arrange something," he mutters, retreating into the subway car. A smirk pulls on Shaw's features as she peers Reese's way; he shows no emotion.

"So what's the plan?" Reese asks her. Shaw's devilish smile deepens.

"I'm glad you asked."

_____\ A Beautiful Woman /_____

Of course, Root would never fall for a tempting package of unprotected information nor any other available prize; which, is exactly why it was not even on Shaw's mind. No, instead, she had something more unpredictable- something so idiotically simple that it could just pass for genius.

"I'm attempting to hack into her network now," Harold informs Shaw through the earwig. Keeping her eyes on the road, Shaw hooks a sharp turn left, nerves begin to rattle with anticipation. "Wait, wait, she sees me. She knows."

"Remember what I told you," Shaw warns him seriously. "Chase her, but do _not_ kick her out of your system when she gets in." Harold gives a tactless click of his tongue, but Shaw ignores it. _Now's not the time for an argument, he needs to remain focused._

Root is feeding right into Shaw's plan, and she cannot help but feel exhilarated at outsmarting this- until now- impervious hacker. Shaw can all but see the scenario playing out in her head. Root, back hacking into Harold's new laptop, scanning through file after file of uploaded fluff, until she stumbles across the one hidden, encrypted file tucked in the most remote corner of Harold's system. She'll crack it in under two minutes, snatching what is inside, before crashing Harold's computer completely, making it so he'll never know what was stolen. The only problem is, they know exactly what she'll take, and where it will lead her. Coordinates to a guarded warehouse on the other side of Manhattan- the coordinates she'll assume are the location of the Machine. _And who can blame her for thinking that?_ Shaw says to herself deviously. _Why else would a single coordinate point be so carefully camouflaged?_

"She's done it," Finch informs them, words spitting out quickly with the support of adrenaline. "If I hadn't known about this plan, I would never've been able to tell what she'd found."

"What's she doing now?" Shaw demands.

"Don't let her find your location, Finch," Reese commands.

"She's- she's stopped. She's letting me kick her out," Finch tells them with a wary note in his voice.

"Probably to make you think you pushed her out before she found anything," Shaw suggests, trying to get inside the mind of the stunning brunette. The sight of her face so impossibly close to Shaw's still sears in the forefront of her mind's eye, and Shaw'd be lying if she said she wanted the image to go.

"It doesn't matter," Reese interjects listlessly, his defensiveness for their spikey-haired friend beginning to show. "Just get rid of the laptop, Harold."

"Already ahead of you, Mr. Reese," he replies, just as a loud thump greets them. "It's found a new home in a Central Park trash bin."

"Here we go, boys," Shaw says, not paying attention to anything save for the large, white building before them. Shaw skids to a halt in the nearest parking spot, throwing open the door and picking up a jog to the warehouse. With Reese close behind, they enter the building, swiping burner cards into the system before trashing them, heading towards the back of the warehouse to wait.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes pass, Shaw growing more antsy with each passing second. She bounces from foot to foot, waiting for Root to walk through the doors. And sure enough, only a moment later, the doors to the storage room swing open, two figures walking in.

"And you're sure the camera you're looking for is in this room?" The aged voice of a security guard asks. Shaw watches the pearly white smile glide flawlessly onto Root's face.

"Positive. Thank you _so_ much for the escort," she tells him kindly, and a blush pulls onto his cheeks.

"Anything I can do to help," he responds dutifully. "You need any help, give a holler." She nods graciously, waiting for him to leave the room before dropping her grin, eyes immediately beginning to scan the room. Shaw takes in how differently she's dressed from work. Dark jeans with a form fitting black t-shirt, glasses nonexistent. Shaw watches, mesmerized, as Root travels from crate to crate, peeking into each in search of something important- in search of the Machine. On and on, Root searches, Shaw's eyes trailing right along with her, blood rushing loudly in her ears as her mind wanders from the mission.

"Shaw," Reese breathes out, and suddenly, Shaw is snapped back into action. Standing up from behind one of the crates, Shaw snakes her way forward until she has a clear lock on Root.

"Fancy meeting you here," Shaw calls, and Root wheels around. At seeing the handgun pointed her way, her eyes flicker with sad dawning. Shaking her head, Root's hand reaches to the back of her waistband. "Come on," Shaw jeers gleefully, soaking up the moment. "You're too smart to think you can reach for your gun fast enough. Do you even know how to _shoot_ that thing?"

"It'd be a shame if you were the one to have to find out," Root returns coolly, "I actually kinda like you."

Shaw's mouth turns up in a half second smirk. "What you're looking for isn't, here," Shaw tells her; however, from the cold glint in Root's eyes, she already knows. Her hand moves further behind her back, and Shaw clicks the safety from her gun.

" _Don't_ make me shoot you," Shaw tells her casually, yet the heedlessness in Root's eyes brings a tenseness to Shaw's muscles. Shaw takes a step forward; Root takes a step back. Shaw watches intently as Root's gaze holds firm on hers before flickering to the left and back. A second's pause. Root makes a start for the nearest crate, but not before Shaw lets a single shot ring into the air.

Root gives a yelp of pain before crumpling, and with John at her side, Shaw approaches Root, taking her gun before the two hoist the brunette to her feet. Root's eyes are brimming with pain as she bites her lip, and Shaw- despite her nature- makes sure to be gentle as she grabs Root around the waist, pressing her hand to the bleeding hole in Root's shoulder.

"Flesh wound," Shaw informs her, "you'll be fine."

"Are you my doctor now, as _well_ as my employee?" Root quips, humor struggling to make an appearance from under the weight of her pain.

"About that," Shaw says with a fake apology on her tongue. "I quit. And so do _you_." Looking to Shaw, Root raises her eyebrows in question.

"And _why_ would I do that?" Root asks cleverly; a small half-smile tugs at Shaw's mouth.

"Because you're gonna be staying with _us_ for a while. We've got a place set up for you- not much, and it smells like the subway- but you'll get used to it." Past the hurt creasing Root's features, humor swirls in her eyes.

"I _might_ agree to that," Root replies, and Shaw chuckles haughtily.

"You don't _have_ to _agree_ with it-"

"-on _one_ condition." Shaw, interrupted, takes a long moment to stare at Root in a vain attempt at irritation. When Root remains unfazed by the extensive gaze, Shaw gives in.

"Oh, yeah?" She asks, a hint of amusement crawling into her tone. "And what's that?"

"I'll stay there as long as _you're_ there," Root responds simply, eyes bright with satisfaction as she gives Shaw a look over. "You know, to makes sure I don't try to escape."

Shaw rolls her jaw, trying to force down a smile, before answering, "I'll _think_ about it."


End file.
